Seamstress
by ShadowWolfReturns
Summary: How does Kurenai cope, with the violent death of her partner and the knowledge that his killer is not really dead, but is in the protection of the village very close ...? Right: not at all. The slightly different "Rape & Revenge" (disturbing content, potential trigger- warning!)


The world sank into a desolation that was not just like a dark curtain, but like thick syrup. She made everything so hard. The thinking. The breathing. Asuma left a gap that hurt physically. It was a pain that started gently.

After a time in which she was stunned and just could not understand it - after all had already come back to everyday life, he was in a devious way louder and more unbearable, drove her out of bed at night, like a hole in a tooth that no dentist in the world could pull. She had seen his dead body. What was left of him, all life energy gone, back in the relentlessly spinning Wheel of the Universe. There was nothing left ... nothing. Not his warm voice when he murmured tenderly to her temple. Not his gentle fingers, which ruffled her hair, not the soft rubbing of his stubble on her cheek-it was all gone forever. On the cracks. In the night air of the sultry summer she stood at the open window. The poppies carried buds. They sucked power out of the earth where their seeds had been buried.

Strength, who quietly and persistently drew herself upward, made her bristly heads swell ever heavier and more plump, and prepared her for a single purpose in a leisurely, insistent silence: To give blood flowers. When the moon was high in the sky, they whispered to Kurenai, her human sister. From a hole in the ground, deep in the forests of the Naras. Of the one whose hands still held Asuma's scent. Which had been closest to him in the last few minutes. Who had touched him. His blood tasted. And whose existence still lay there and throbbed, like an open wound that did not heal just because one drew dirt and oblivion over it.

Like the seeds of the poppy, the germ of evil lay there in the dark below. He lay there waiting, shouting silently for something that would rekindle his vitality, make his juices flow.

Kurenai was a helpless pregnant woman, a widow withered with grief before the prime of her life. But she was also a Kunouichi. Even before the first birds cried, she tied her bundle for a final mission.

~

The forest air stunned the smell of flowers and dark moss. When the first rays of the sun penetrated through the foliage, it was already up to knees and elbows full of moist, loamy soil. There was sweat between her shoulder blades. The drops ran down her temple, falling from her chin, mingling with silent tears. Since she started working, she was crying. It had something relieving that hurt in a good way, flushing out all the old pain. Her breath was heavy. By noon, her ankles were swollen and her head was thick and padded. Dark spots swam before her eyes.

Only agonizingly slow she progressed, but again and again she mechanically dug her fingers in wet dirt. Around the pit lay a ring of fresh field crumbs. She did not see the little birds that swarmed around her, picking maggots and worms from the plaice. From time to time one of the big deer stalked silently and silently, bobbing his ears and watching the spectacle from afar, before returning to his path. Kurenai felt dizziness. She felt nauseous. Her whole body groaned. Now, just before the appointment, she should raise her legs in the shade at home and look after herself. But still, she just could not stop digging in quiet persistence. When the sun was already low and the rays orange and red, all the trees of the forest in dramatic colors, she came at her ditch on something soft. At first she thought it was a particularly thick beetle larva, like one of the many she had already dug up. But then she saw the fingernail at the blunt end.

It was a hand. She was strangely gray and puffy and ended in a stump around the remains of sharp-edged forearm bones just above the wrist. Breathing heavily and shaking her hands, she wiped away the coarsest dirt, looking at her find from all sides. He was surprisingly heavy and cool, through the long time in the earth, but when she thoroughly washed him in the nearby creek, she saw the color coming slowly back under the rubbing of her fingers, felt for the first time, like an electric shock, a small one Twitching that went through the tattered muscles. That was the first piece. She put it in her bucket and covered it with bark and undergrowth to keep wild animals away. She did not find anything else that day. But when she went home, her shoulders and hips crunching with pain, the dirt under her fingernails far too deep to go away with a bath, she had a smile on her face for the first time in too many years.

~

Hidan sensed that something was going on. He had already felt the shaking of the ground through her footsteps when she first stepped to the pit, and since then he knew everything. Blind, dumb and deaf, he felt her resolve in the churning of Brocken, in the crumbling of the earth. He knew her steps and every day hope grew a little more. Every day, the good feeling became stronger. Completely helpless and divided into dozens of individual pieces buried in the ground was infinitely cold, infinitely meaningless and lonely. A dull drifting of consciousness from endless silence to vague attention, when some worm nibbled at a distant part of the body and he could do nothing, absolutely nothing, back to dull frustration and apathy. You lost every sense of time. Seconds melted to minutes, minutes to hours, and days melted together for a moment. You lost your orientation, all alone in eternity.

Not even the thought of Yashin was comforting, because what should he do? He could not curse, he could not pray reasonably, just listen to the whispering crackling and rasping of his own creeping decay. How could he pay homage to his master when the dirt in his mouth, ears and eyes slowly but surely dried him? He had not dared to hope that Kakuzu came back. He was certainly not sure. But who else should it be? Who would have found the job? Who dug him out-voluntarily ?! Kakuzu had made it, the old bastard, recovering from his wounds and sending someone to free him.

Hidan was in the mood to even cry a bit with emotion. If only he remembered that he was soon up again ... finally see the sun again. Swallow up delicious, sizzling mammalian dumplings. Talk to someone. Sacrifice something... To taste fresh, living blood ... He felt warm women's hands as his head was dug out, felt ice cold spring water as it was being washed off, spit out a lot of sand and clay. The stuff had dug into his trachea. She was very thorough in her cleansing. Affectionate, almost. Again and again she dipped it in clear, bubbling water, washed his eyes. His neck stump. His almost white hair.

After that, she put his head carefully in soft moss near a tree, and he saw her for the first time. Black, lascivious curls. Luscious breasts. An abdomen, swollen with life, which another had injected deep into her body. Full, blood red lips. Gentle, dark eyes. Her sweet sweat smelt stunningly like milk, deprivation and security. She appeared before him like a strange deity. The Great Mother: Kali Mistress of life and death, bliss and horror.

When she had finally brought it to light piece by piece, she sat on the edge of the huge pit in the moss and sewed. She sewed tirelessly with a thick needle and a long black thread. Layer by layer, day after day. Muscles on sinews, tendons on bones, skin on skin. She put organs together. Shaped the back he once had closed his abdominal wall over stomach, intestine, liver. Stroke across his chest, closing the gaps between the ribs. Gave him his pelvis back. Put his head back on his shoulders.

Almost like Kakuzu earlier, she sewed him together and sewed her fate. Stitch by stitch. Until the threads that bound them crossed him to the core. She had been a stranger. Now ... they were almost a part of each other.

During the breaks, she combed his hair, gave him a drink and fed him with a soup that brought her, and with each sip he let his strength, his spirits come back. He laughed in stunned happiness, shuddering under her fingers, cooing dirty features over her obscenely plump breasts. About the bright red lips. Over their burden, for each visible to bear the consequences of their complacency. Who was the child from? Did it still feel as hot as it had when she spread her legs to receive his juice deep inside her? Where was he now? Did he know that someone else smelled their scent, felt their hands? If only he could, he would consecrate the child Yashin ... it would mellow him, a splendid newborn, just for him ...

He laughed darkly and put his head back when they gently wiped a few drops of soup from the corner of his mouth. He greedily stretched his tongue to her fingers, surprised when she did not flinch, but licked him, even tenderly stroking his lower lip, and only taking his hand back when he seemed to have had enough. It all felt so surreally good, so wonderfully intoxicating that for a long time he did not become suspicious.

Why she no longer sewed his limbs, for example. His arms, his legs down from his thighs, lay clean and ready, well visible to him, in the bucket beside him. Tied together with thin natural fiber, like a bundle of firewood. He was just a hull.

She bound his stumps with great devotion, patted and cared for him, but she also hesitated, suspiciously, to continue sewing. And when the dull feeling was there and heavy in his stomach, he dared not ask. His dirty remarks were less. He became quieter. Slowly, Hidan, in his thick skull and aching, helpless lump in his chest, realized that Kakuzu might really be dead. That he was alone in this forest. All alone, with this pregnant, strange woman.

~

About five days after she started digging, Kurenai found the trailer at the bottom of the pit. The evening was falling and the ring with the isosceles triangle flashed silvery in the rays of the low sun. She held the necklace in her fist, picked her up, and looked closely at her. Glittering and flashing, rays broke from it, sending the light from it far into the dark green around it. The sign of Yashin.

It had looked exactly the same in all books. For a few moments she lowered her arm again and looked into the distance. A long, quiet dialogue with an invisible mate before returning to the dug man from the pit. The setting sun shone its shape white from behind, making it dark and bright at the same time. Hidan's eyes were wide as she stood in front of him.

She climbed over him, wordless. Her swollen ankles beside leg rests on his pelvis, her femininity in front of his nose, after which he stretched his nose. Slowly, laboriously, she lowered her heavy body to her knees. Her dirty, jarring hand with the pendant and Yashin's sign lifted her before his eyes.

He made a strange sound. A high, excited tone that was the caricature of a laugh. White shone around his iris. When the sign was close enough to him, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to it.

Kurenai watched in silence. Then, slowly, almost tenderly, she put the necklace around his neck. Just like putting a sling on.

"Who ... are you?" He coughed. His voice was rough with sand and earth. "Kurenai Yuuhi," she said.

Her name was that which penetrated all the branch tips at this time of day, making the whole environment glow in bloody light: The scarlet evening sun.

His gray, dry tongue flickered over cracked lips, confusion in his eyes. "... what do you want from me?!"

She took a deep breath and took a slow breath.

Then she returned his gaze with determination. "To free you from the earth," she said softly, "And she from you." A laugh broke from the stitched chest, "Impossible! You want to kill me? I am immortal! You're not the first to try that "

"I know, "she breathed. "I read about the Yashin disciples. There are old writings in our library. They consecrate the body to their god to become immortal. They swear separation forever, to the contact of the transient world. Yashin is ... very jealous. In time ... her hunger becomes insatiable "

Without expression, she touched his hand with his cold cheek.

"Some become crazy about it, they say ... The longing for the price of their eternal life becomes so overpowering that they lose their mind. That they become addicted to it ... piercing themselves with weapons and steel, just to feel something ... similar ... overwhelming ... that they drink pain, like wine, to numb the emptiness ... " Her fingers groped the arch of the mandible.

"It is said that if they stain even once, they will be defenseless and die. "

Hidan's grin froze. Lush, black curls slid over his bare shoulder as she tilted her head and huddled closer. "I'll wipe you out," she whispered into his split pinna.

He remained motionless. It was not until, with a jolt of determination, he reached for his head to squeeze her blood-red lips, to seize the cold mouth with power, and gave a strangled moan. Somewhere in him something began to shake softly.

Her hand came away, fingers slipping over seams and abdominal muscles, swarming around his belly button. His whole body twitched. She pushed her lap over him.

"... what -... wait, what -... what are you doing there?", Panting, he tore himself from her mouth: "Stop ... you're crazy!"

"Do not worry ... ", long fingers dipped into his hair, closed it at the back of the head, pulled him backward, baring his throat," It'll be easy ... I'll help you " "No -...", his Japsen slid into a high register, meaningless twitching tore his stumps in the air, "Go away! Stop it!"

"It's going to happen ... ", she held the bucking hull," Let it be ... you have not given it for a long time ... "

"Witch! WITCH! ", His voice was now seriously worried," Let your poison fingers from me! " Kurenai was sitting on his knees above his lap, holding him with both hands and waiting. He threw his head from one side to the other so violently that seams burst open. But she had time. She had a lot of time now.

An eternity.

"Calm down ... "she murmured as he gave up in agony, trembling," It will not hurt much ... do you see? ... "Her hand slipped the last piece between his thighs and gently but finally closed. "You just die a bit. That's all"

He made a sound, deep in his throat, a strangled chuckle before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

He gritted, teeth clenched. Tears were shining in the corner of his eye. The look he gave her was wild and incomprehensible. She answered with the closing of her fingers and a deep kiss on his mouth, which had so often been smeared with strange blood - now with her deep red lipstick ... his tongue that must have tasted metallic so often ... and now Earth tasted. After the damp, dark topsoil from which he came, and in which he would return.

As her hand moved slowly, gently and rhythmically, her lips parted, he began sobbing like a child:

"I do not want to die yet ...! "He cried as his pelvis began to twitch, to press against her," Do not kill me! " "We all have to go, someday ..." she whispered, "This is the course of nature. One life goes, another ... ", she gave her hand movement a purposeful jolt:" Come -... " "No -... Ah!"

She adjusted the grip, closed her hand around his penis, squeezed hard. Until his back sagged, his head jerked to the bark of the tree, his lips lifted over bared teeth, eyes rolling upwards until all that was left was the white. A fine, high sound came from the chest, a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

His tormented expression flickered in a teeth-flashing grin. Disgust became greed, whimpers swelled to a deep intoxicated moan, turned into a harsh laugh:

"... Ohh ...", he breathed. "Miraculous ... ahhr ...! That -... is so much better than the spit ...! " Very slowly she turned her wrist. "Aaaau! Aaahhaha -...! Why-...?!", He bit his lower lip, leaned back lower, cocked his head, "Why ... just -...? I do not even know you! "

"You have brought a man into the hereafter. " "The father?", All of a sudden the realization was there, "Is it -... that?" Kurenai did not answer. For a moment she was frozen. Although she had never forgotten the fact, the experience of hearing it uttered by him was a slap in the face.

She stood up only with difficulty, but then, in silent, motionless determination, pushed underwear under her skirt out of the way and helped part of him into her inside ... into her warm, living body and he groaned loudly, gurgling ... defeated underneath. The back of his head scraped against the tree trunk.

"Ohh ... ", he gasped," Ohh no -... Jashin! " As she began to move, he came so hard and so hard he could meet her. In his big, timeless young eyes circled shimmering, insane hunger, "Then kill me -...!", He hissed, "Ahhh-tighter ...! More quickly! Yes, please -... kill me ...! " "... Die!"

Although she spoke with determination, she felt the tremor in her voice. That, and a sense of breaking through one last line ... a last dam of taboo and distance broken. Warm flow between them, out of her, proved her right. She reached down and when she pulled her fingers out, they were full of blood. Her orgasm hit her at the same time as a shock.

Surprised, she tried to hold on, grabbed him in the face. He stood still, his stomach numb, his stomach trembling, twitching ... as if a great power were liberating itself, leaving him in the same breath, a single moment of infinite defenselessness, once more leaping into it his deepest mark, shaking his innermost foundations. When she released his hand, the trace of her fingers, her blood, shone like a cain's mark on her, wet and red.

He licked the palm of his hand, which slid down over his mouth, feebly, a last taste of what had held him upright. Not from imminent death, but from new life that broke on him ... Kurenai understood the repulsive of this scene ... but it did not reach her. Something else filled her at that moment. Unexplainable, deep calm, and when he saw bright, bright eyes under her sign, she suddenly realized how beautiful he was.

There was no more blame between them. No infidelity. No this world and beyond, only an infinite vastness of pain and forgiveness. Around him, Kurenai suddenly felt very close to Asuma.

The third Hokage. Hidan's alien bonds ... all his victims ... all the fallen of their common, eternal wars ... The man of the blood from the pit had stopped fighting with her. His eyelids were heavy, his lips were cracked. "Kali," he whispered, exhausted and hoarse, "Holy Mother ... I -..."

She leaned forward, kissing his cold forehead. He snuggled his head into her bloody hand one last time. "Go without rancor ..." she whispered, "Nuke-Nin who are forgiven are reborn as poppies"

For a moment they looked each other in the eye. The murderer and the widow, and something inexplicable swung between them.

She cringed under the first woe that hit her like an approaching tide. But then she got up laboriously. At the same moment his eyes broke, became glassy and blind. Within seconds his body began to shrink in front of her, the skin wrinkled, became dark and small, then his lips fell, his eye sockets. He became dust. In the last rays of light his body disintegrated, being carried away by the wind.

Kurenai was left alone. She burned the remaining bones at the bottom of the big pit, and stood there with tears in her eyes and the oppressive child in her womb. A pain that seemed to tear her in half. She raised her face to the sky. And then, finally, she started on staggering legs. The trickle of a trail of blood escorted her out of the nocturnal forests of the Nara to the hospital ... she had begun to cry again, but as her blood ran down her legs and the tears dripped from her chin, her heart laughed a strange, with everything Death and life of their earth deeply connected laughter.

Unseen, quiet buds opened on the balcony in front of her dark window. The result was something new. Hazezart powerful. In a color like the liquid that makes life pulsate under our shell.


End file.
